“What? I can’t hear you,” she admitted.
Oh, Ivan was pissed.
“I swear to God, if you leave that bunker, I’m going to make your life hell. Do you hear me, Elizabeth Renee LaRue Whitefox-Leonard-Blackhawk?”
She snorted.
“Did he just whole name me? Look at that. We’re not even knocking boots and he’s getting testicular.”
Ivan was red.
“I mean it!”
She just laughed.
“I’ll take a mercenary and a CIA spook. We should be good,” she said.
Oh, this was bad, and Ivan knew it. Elizabeth had two Russian spies after her thanks to taking out Alexsandr Dominik, and they’d pissed off Thomas Bernard.
Now, he had a headache.
“We gotta get back. I can’t let the deputy director run amuck. She’s a danger to herself, and everyone else.”
Clint’s eyes went huge.
“The deputy director?” he asked. “As in…?”
Maura nodded.
“Congrats, Clint. You got on Elizabeth Blackhawk’s radar, and the government is onto you douchebags. You have to be a certain kind of scum to make her hired hit squad take you out,” she said, meaning them.
“Oh, Jesus,” he muttered.
It was clean up on aisle traitor, and they were about to take care of the mess.
Clint Rust.
The mess had a name.
Because it was time, Maura focused on him.
“You let them kill people and take money that was needed to secure and protect our soldiers?”
He began crying.
“I made a mistake,” he said. “I’m sorry. Let me make it up to everyone.”
Oh, hell, no.
“Let Zayn up,” she said, and the Marines got off of him. The second they did, he was up, and he unloaded a whole clip into the man.
The.
Whole.
Clip.
His body did a jittery dance as he was hit over and over again with bullets.
